


Stop Hogging the Blankets!

by Jaybeefoxy



Series: Flufftober Prompts 2020 [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Do Not Translate, Fluff, Flufftober 2020, Flufftober Mystrade 2020, Hogging the blankets, M/M, You do not have permission to post to another site, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26902447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaybeefoxy/pseuds/Jaybeefoxy
Summary: Mycroft is freezing. Greg solves the problem.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Flufftober Prompts 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950532
Comments: 2
Kudos: 105





	Stop Hogging the Blankets!

**Author's Note:**

> Part 7 of Flufftober.

“Bloody Hell, love, will you **stop hogging the blankets!** ” Greg demanded, grabbing the offending coverings from his husband. 

“It’s cold, Gregory. I am _freezing_. The mercury has plummeted to a record low, and our heating will not be mended until later in the morning, because even with all my power and influence, it seems that there were no emergency engineers free before eight o'clock this morning. To cap it all you seem to want to sleep as far away from me as it is humanly possible to be, so what do you expect?”

Greg sighed. “Just our luck it gets a fault when the cold snap hits. Hang on...Let me sort this out, love. We need to break out the duvet. Gimme a few.” Greg got up and grabbed his fleece robe and, shoving his feet into slippers, he padded off downstairs. He was gone a while, until Mycroft wondered exactly what he was up to. Suddenly the door opened, and Greg came in bearing a tray. He had a hot water bottle under each arm, and two steaming mugs of cocoa on the tray, which he set down on the dressing table. “There,” he said, triumphantly. He tucked a bottle in the bed by Mycroft’s feet and added one on his own side of the bed. “Just need the duvet…” Mycroft watched him disappear into the walk-in wardrobe. Mycroft could hear him moving things around, pulling things off an overhead shelf, and a lot of rustling, as Greg wrestled the duvet out of its packing. He returned with a cover for it and then proceeded to expertly flip the cover on, taking a little time to smooth it down and button it closed. “There,” he said, flinging it over the man in the bed. “Now, if you try pinching this, I’m nicking you for theft.”

Mycroft smiled thinly. “I’d like to see you try…” he purred. 

“Be careful what you wish for,” Greg admonished, handing him his cocoa. "I'll have you know I brought my handcuffs home with me."

"Well, it won't be necessary if we share body heat," Mycroft suggested. "I believe that is a standard survival manoeuvre, is it not?" 

Greg grinned and shuffled closer. "I know a few more survival tricks we might use. They say friction can help…you know, rubbing the bits affected by the cold?"

"I'm sure that will work," Mycroft agreed, eyebrow lifting eloquently. "As long as you rub the _right_ bits…"

Mycroft cuddled up to his husband a little later, warmed through by the cocoa, and the rather delicious _friction_ provided by Greg's capable hands. His toes were toasty on the hot water bottle, and there was no need to hog the covers any more, not with Greg spooning him behind. The man was a radiator. The combination of his husband's warmth and the duvet reassured Mycroft that he wouldn't now freeze to death. He settled for sleep, immensely grateful for such a practical spouse. 


End file.
